


Eskel is Magic

by Descarada



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bottom Eskel (The Witcher), Crack Treated Seriously, Eskel is magic, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Goat Dad Eskel, He emits magical vibrations, I swear it’s really really sweet though, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Service Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Unless you like it, also, canon era AU, lots of banter and flirting, my apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descarada/pseuds/Descarada
Summary: The vicious, hateful, anti-witcher pamphlet Monstrum was used to whip up townsfolk to attack Kaer Morhen. These people, along with several mages, slaughtered almost every witcher who lived and trained there. (This is book/videogame canon)But.What if.Jaskier is a royal scribe at that time. It’s his first day as a scribe and his first assignment is to copy Monstrum over and over again.He doesn’t know what a witcher is, but it still doesn’t sit right with him.But what can one simple scribe do?But just before the pamphlets are to be distributed, he comes upon a witcher. A witcher with a goat, who needs his help.Well, as you might imagine, this changes everything.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 93
Kudos: 315
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	1. Monstrum

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a real, emotional, plot. It is also utterly shameless Eskel thirst, wall to wall.
> 
> *beckons* join me, why don’t you?
> 
> (Also, this is not beta’ed. Any mistakes are my own)

Jaskier

Jaskier shot out of bed with the first bell. He usually had to drag himself up at this hour, but today was different. 

Today was the day he would be seated at the scribes’ bench. 

Like his father before him, Jaskier was a royal scribe apprentice. Over the past year, he had learned to make ink, whittle quills, and mix colors for the illumination of sacred texts. And until today, he’d served as an assistant to the scribes in the cavernous main hall, making their supplies and running errands. 

But the day had finally come. He would get his own workstation and projects. He would have the chance to show what he could do with lettering and sketching. 

His hoped he would be given a fanciful illumination to fashion. Perhaps he would create some wondrous creature in the margins of an important tome that would delight someone when they turned the page.

He pulled on his long tunic, belted it, and looped a towel under the belt. He deftly stroked his hair into a pleasing shape, and headed out into the street. He greeted everyone that he met along the way with even more enthusiasm than usual, and arrived at the royal scribes hall in good spirits. 

The hall was a freestanding stone building that had previously been used as an auction house. But as regional literacy had grown, more space was needed for scribes and it had been converted.

It was an open yawning room filled with rows of long tables surrounded by benches. Tables and shelves cluttered with supplies lined the walls, and completed projects were stacked in corners. There were a handful of offices built along the south wall.

A few of the scribes cordially greeted him. Most were absorbed in their work.

He nodded and winked at the friendliest scribes as he walked down the center aisle, for luck. Then he took a seat and arranged his blank parchments, nerves jangling.

“Jaskier,” called the head scribe.

“Yes?” Jaskier answered, a little too quickly.

The head scribe was a tired, bearded man named Colin. He stood in front of Jaskier and dropped a parchment leaf on the table. He gazed down at him and yawned.

“All scribes are to copy this today, as many times as possible. For the coming week, it will be this assignment and no other. It is the highest priority.”

Colin swept away the moment he saw Jaskier nod in acknowledgement. Jaskier had hoped for a little more pomp and circumstance to his first day. But ah well. He laid out his supplies in a neat row. Then he held the parchment up and examined it. It began...

_“Verily, there is nothing so hideous as the monsters, so contrary to nature, known as witchers for they are the offspring of foul sorcery and devilry. They are rogues without virtue, conscience or scruple, true diabolic creations, fit only for killing.”_

Jaskier leaned over to the scribe at his right elbow, who was already scribbling away.

“Lucas. What is this? What’s a witcher?”

It took Lucas a moment to answer. 

“Hmm?” He said absently. “Does it matter?”

“I suppose not,” said Jaskier. “But what does it mean? Fit for killing. Does it mean they can only kill? Or should only be killed? Either way,” he grimaced and poked out his tongue “morbid.”

Lucas looked at him through his chestnut fringe.

“Jask, it’s too early for...questions.” 

He returned to his own work.

“Fair enough,” muttered Jaskier. 

He’d thought he’d be transcribing sacred stories. Perhaps something risque or dramatic. This was something else. He’d never even heard this story. He picked up where he’d left off. 

_“There is no place amidst honest men for such as they.”_

Jaskier looked around the hall. His fellows were busy at work. The sounds of nibs scratching on parchment and the clinks of the quills against inkpots were all that filled the cavernous hall. 

He stretched his neck, rolled his wrist, and began to write.

_“And Kaer Morhen, where these infamous beings nestle, where they perform their foul practices, must be wiped from the surface of this earth, and all trace of it strewn with salt and saltpetre.”_

Wiped from the surface of the earth. That sounded ominous. Was this a tract? Propaganda? Or just a very dramatic villainous monologue from a theater production? A creepy fairytale his mother had thankfully never read to him?

Lucas was right though, it didn’t exactly matter. He was only the tool. The pen. 

So he did his job, and did it well. In fact, his copies were far more fastidious than the copies done by the long-time scribes. They were already burnt out by the rote tasks. At the end of the day, he stacked his copies carefully at his workstation.

And as he walked out of the hall that night, he tried to tuck away his curiosity as neatly as he had his work.

\------

Jaskier walked first to his parents house for dinner. He did have his own home. He had just come of age, and his parents had bought him a modest row house in order to help attract a quality bride for him.

He was grateful for his new house, but it still felt bare and empty. He hadn’t fully furnished or decorated it yet. So he still took dinner with his parents in their spacious, stately home.

His father pulled him in off of the stoop. He greeted Jaskier proudly and slapped him on the back. His tunic was untied and his blue eyes merry.

“It’s your favorite, pork ribs! We’re celebrating your first day.” 

His mother met him at the door as well. She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek as she smiled proudly. It felt good to make them so happy. They would leave him alone about marrying for at least a few weeks.

His father had long since used his scribe wages to invest in a printing business, and they had joined the merchant class. However, that hadn’t done much to impress his mother’s noble family. Jaskier’s marriage prospects were meant to do the heavy lifting in that regard. 

He didn’t need the house to attract people. He attracted people every day. However his liaisons were probably not the kind his parents envisioned. They tended to be intense, involved nudity, and fizzled out quickly. And they weren’t with noble women. But they didn’t need to know that.

They sat in the gleaming dining room and were served by his parent’s staff. The plate was beautiful and the ribs looked juicy. But he couldn’t muster his normally ravenous appetite. 

He pushed his food around his plate, and answered his mother’s questions about the new house with little enthusiasm. She asked him about the bardic festival coming up over the weekend, knowing it usually elicited a reaction. But he still gazed off into the middle distance.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asked, touching his arm in concern. Her touch snapped him out of it.

“Oh yes, of course. Just a bit tired,” he answered. Then a question popped out of his mouth that he hadn’t entirely intended to ask. 

“Father, what is a witcher?” he asked.

His father looked up, startled, eyebrows crawling up his forehead. To his left, his mother gasped, and lowered her wine glass to the table with a clink. 

“What? Why?” His father demanded.

“No reason,” said Jaskier. He wasn’t sure why he lied. For some reason he didn’t want to share his work with his father yet.

“Don’t speak of it, son. You don’t want to become associated with them,” huffed his father, and stabbed a piece of meat with his fork.

So witcher were real. 

“It was just a question,” said Jaskier. 

“One question is one too many,” said his father, sounding irritated. “Stay out of the business of mages and clerics. You’ll lose your head, and it’d kill your mother.”

Jasier gaped. “How is a simple question the business of mages and clerics? And you can’t be serious about losing my head.” 

“Witchers are mutants,” his mother spoke up. “Mutants.” Her round face had drawn into a worried pinch. She clutched her lace collar.

“Why do mages and clerics care that mutants exist?” asked Jaskier. He had certainly heard of people with mutations. It happened.

His father heaved a sigh. He wasn’t a man who enjoyed being challenged, but he usually wasn’t so opposed to a simple question.

  
“There is a pogrom afoot,” he said. He put down his silverware and clasped his hands, looking at Jaskier in earnest.

“Again,” said his mother. She had a tired and drawn expression when she said it. Her joy at greeting him seemed a distant memory.

“What?” Said Jaskier, though he knew exactly what they meant. It hadn’t been long since the elves fleeing Cintra had been slaughtered by Calanthe. When he thought of it he felt ill. He didn’t know why it didn’t seem to bother anyone else the way that it bothered him.

“Yes,” said his father. “And sensible people will shut up and survive it,” his father said.

“Are they evil?” Dandelion asked. “Witchers? Are they truly evil?”

“It doesn’t matter if they’re evil,” said his father. “It matters that you leave this alone.”

“What do they look like, are they humanoid?” Asked Jaskier.

The plates clattered when his father slammed a fist down on his table.

“No more, Jaskier,” said his father.

“Let’s talk of more pleasant things,” said his mother.

Jaskier knew he would get nothing further from them. So he allowed a change of topic that drifted off to banal, safe topics. He ate his meal but it went down his throat dry and sat heavy in his stomach. 

\---

For five more days, Jaskier and his fellows copied the words he had read. 

_“It is well known that when a witcher inflicts pain, suffering and death he experiences absolute ecstasy and bliss such as a devout and normal man experiences during sexual congress with his wedded spouse, ibidem cum ejaculatio.”_

They sounded horrible. Evil. That killing for them was a sexual thrill. 

_“This leads one to conclude that, also in this matter also, a witcher is a creature contrary to nature, an immoral and filthy degenerate, born of the blackest and most foul-smelling Hell, since surely only a devil could derive bliss from suffering and pain.”_

According to this, witchers were literal devils. Agents of destruction, rape and murder. The work Jaskier was doing would help protect people from them. He was doing a public service. 

So Jaskier did his job. But every day that he copied the tracts, he sat up late at night with acid in his throat, unable to sleep. He told himself he was helping people. But his mind wouldn’t be at ease.

At the end of the fifth day, the head scribe gave them a title to add to the tract.

_Monstrum._

Then the scribes stood in orderly lines to stack armfuls of their work together against the wall of the hall. There must have been a thousand copies. Jaskier stacked his on top with the others. He should have felt pride at the completion of his first assignment. 

But he mostly felt empty. He hoped these were complete and he’d get a new assignment soon to wipe away the taste of this one. 

On his way out, Jaskier quietly asked Colin.

“Are we done with these then?”

He was relieved to see the man nod. 

“Tomorrow they’ll be distributed out to the entire town,” said the head scribe proudly.

When he saw Jaskier’s face fall, he laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry lad, you’re a scribe now. It won’t be your feet getting blisters. The assistants are handing them out to the crowd at the festival tomorrow.”

Jaskier nodded and smiled weakly.

“Meet us at the tavern, Jaskier?” His friend Lucas called out, already halfway to the exit. “Celebrate a job well done!”

“Yes Jaskier, come join us. Let me treat,” Said Jacob, the new guy, the one with the blonde curls and ruddy cheeks. There was an unmistakable air of flirtation as he raked his eyes up and down Jaskier’s form.

Normally, Jaskier would enthusiastically seize such an opportunity. Half of the scribes and their sisters could attest to that. But tonight he could only nod again halfheartedly until his friend was satisfied and allowed him to leave.

\-----

That night, back at his own home, Jaskier decided to avoid the tavern. Neither his heart, nor his loins, were in it. That was so unusual, he told himself that he must be getting ill. He lay sprawled out on his four poster bed, feeling miserable. 

Tossing and turning for a good hour changed his mind. He would go to the tavern. He would ask his friends about witchers. They would tell him that witchers were demons, that they walked on four scaly legs, and that _Monstrum_ was a great public service. He would believe it. If enough people told him, he would believe it. Then he would fuck this handsome Jacob fellow up against a wall. Then he would come home and be at peace. He would sleep.

He got up and put on a sky blue doublet that brought out his eyes, and a tight pair of trousers that brought out his ass. He tousled his hair into its sexy evening mode and set off.

The tavern was at the edge of town, so it would be a considerable walk along the cobblestone streets. It was brisk and cool outside. Both of those things were fine. He needed to clear his head. Thankfully, the streets were relatively quiet. He could hear a few distant conversations being held on stoops and in doorways but that was about it. 

Which is why the rough, metallic voice piercing the night sent him leaping in surprise.

He was just passing Elias’s stables so he was almost to the tavern when he heard the voice calling desperately.

“Help. Can you help?”

Jaskier skidded to a stop, almost tripping over his own feet. Across the street, a door to Elias’s stables was cracked open. Elias was the animal marshal who treated ailing animals. Normally he did house calls out to the farms in the country. He shouldn’t even be home. And that wasn’t his voice.

Jaskier looked around, but there was no one else close by. But who could’ve heard him walking by at this distance?

He crossed the street towards the stables. Lantern light streamed out of the crack in the stable door.  
  


“Please, I need your help.”

Jaskier heard notes of anxiety in the gravelly voice. He drew closer and peeked into the stables. He instantly jumped back.

“I’m sorry,” the voice came again. “I know. I know I don’t look...friendly. But I...I won’t hurt you. And I need help.”

Jaskier peeked again through the door.

He hadn’t jumped back out of fear. He’d jumped back because the most gorgeous man he had ever seen was crouching on the hay strewn floor of a stall, shirtless, over a bleating pregnant goat. 

Jaskier peeked through the door again. Yes, there he was. It hadn’t been a fever dream.

Jaskier slid through the door and inched closer, feet sliding along the packed earth floor.

The man looked up at him hopefully. He had amber eyes and they crackled like flames in the light of the lanterns. He had full lush, tempting lips. One of the peaks of his cupid’s bow was pulled up slightly by scarring that covered half of his face. His dark hair was slicked back with sweat and his angular face was racked with worry.

Jaskier nodded and swallowed.   
  


“What can I do?” he asked. 

The man’s sigh of relief was practically a groan of bliss. His broad shoulders relaxed.

It made Jaskier flush with...something. Fuck. 

“Just. Can you help me calm her? Sit at her head and stroke her?” he said in that voice. He was sitting back on his heels. He seemed completely unaware of the effect that acres of muscular scarred chest might have on a Jaskier. 

Jaskier nodded. “Alright, I can do that.” Jaskier accepted that this was his evening now. Looking at the strapping man in front of him, it seemed like a massive improvement. 

He removed his doublet, folded it, and hung it over the stall wall. Sure, he only had on his undershirt beneath it but it didn’t really matter. He was caring for a goat, and still overdressed compared to this man.

The man’s gaze caught on his chest for a fleeting second, as though his eyes had told him to take a closer look before his brain caught up.

_Good, good,_ thought Jaskier, all half hearted designs on the new scribe ( _what was his name?_ ) were obliterated.

The goat bleated. The man’s face knit again in worry.

“See how she’s seizing up? She’s panicking. It’ll help if you just stroke her head. Please?” said the man.

Jaskier lowered himself to the ground. It really did take this caliber of man to get Jaskier to mess his best tailored trousers. He sat cross legged in the straw and leaned against the stall. He gingerly placed his hand on the goat’s head, stroking the white streak that ran up the center of its tawny head.

If Jaskier could make this barely dressed man grateful to him by petting a goat, then he would not look this gift goat in the mouth.

Jaskier smiled comfortingly. “Is she sick?” he asked, batting his eyes.

“No,” said the man, wiping his brow. A pewter wolf head pendant lay between his pecs. Not that Jaskier was looking there. Not that he’d noticed his dusky nipples and curling black chest hair. Not at all.

“She’s giving birth. But it’s her first time. And she’s frightened. It’s just one kid though, so that’ll be easier at least.”

Jaskier looked down and what was likely this man’s tunic was soaked in water. He was using it to dab the rotund animal and keep her clean. 

“It’s happening sooner than I expected.” he said. 

The man manipulated the goat’s limbs and felt along its belly, his eyes carefully watching its every response.

“It’s ok, girl,” he said gently. 

Jaskier had spent the last week preoccupied with man’s inhumanity to man. He’d sat with his own family and been told that slaughter of living breathing beings was just something you had to accept.

Simply being in the presence of his man, with all of his compassion for this damn goat was a welcome respite.

For the moment, Jaskier allowed the evils of the world to fall away. His eyes took in the care and kindness in this man’s face. They roamed along his body. Over all of the thick muscle, his sides and stomach were pleasingly soft, and rolled slightly over his waistband. He was truly a lust provoking work of art.

Jaskier felt a little guilty enjoying the view when the man was clearly distraught over this awkwardly swollen goat but in his defense, the goat was doing just fine, preparing to do the most natural act in the world.

Perhaps the man sensed Jaskier’s bemusement and he looked down, bashful. “I just haven’t seen her like this. She’s a brave little un you know. I take her forktail hunting with me. She’s always as calm as you please, just chewing grass.”

“Forktail hunting?” asked Jaskier.

“Yeah,” said the man, though he was too distracted to realize that forktail hunting required further explanation.

“And what is your name?” asked Jaskier.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” said the man. “Name’s Eskel.” He looked as though he would reach out to shake Jaskier’s hands but he stopped and looked at his palms.

“Sorry,” he said. “Filthy.” He rubbed them on his trousers. His hands were large and looked weathered and callused, like a man who knew how to work with them. They were the kind of hands that felt like heaven sliding up thighs. 

Eskel seemed to remember he was half naked and self consciously ran his hands up to his shoulders, where a large half moon sized scar looked like a wolf had taken a bite of him.

“Shit. Right. Sorry. I had to use my tunic-“

“Oh no. Please do not apologize, Eskel, I’m Jaskier.” He replied, leaning fully into the delight and flirtation in his voice. “And I don’t mind a little filth.” He held out his hand for a shake.

The goat bleated and squirmed and Eskel’s eyes snapped to her again. Jaskier sighed. He dropped his hand.

“And her name?” Jaskier asked regarding the offending goat.

“Oh, Lil Bleater,” said Eskel. 

“Alright,” said Jaskier, turning his attention to the goat. “How about a song, Lil Bleater?” He lowered himself onto his side until he was laying on the straw next to the goat’s head. It was a balm after a week spent feeling helpless and insignificant. 

He stroked Lil Bleater’s head and began singing a lullaby he heard once from a traveling minstrel. His mouth was close to her furry ear and she stilled as soon as he sang the first notes. 

🎵🎶Well, I love my baby,

Sweet and fair:

You've got the sky in your eyes,

The sun in your hair.

I rock you to sleep most every night,

And sing you this song,

While I hold you tight.🎶🎵

Her twitching became less frequent and less intense. Her bleating quieted entirely.

Jaskier had gotten through the second verse when he realized that Eskel had stilled as well.

He looked up as he sang, and Eskel was openly staring at him. There was wonder in his eyes and his lips were parted. It was like Eskel was looking at him for the first time. Jaskier was momentarily star struck under the man’s intense gaze. 

Jaskier’s voice faltered.

“No, please,” said Eskel. “Keep going.”

He reached out and covered Jaskier’s hand with his and a lovely buzz swept up Jaskier’s arm. Eskel pulled back his hand as though burned, then nodded at him to go on.

  
Jaskier finished the song. By the time the last note hung in the air, he could have sworn that Eskel’s eyes were wet.

A gentle silence lay between them. He waited for Eskel to break it. 

“I haven’t heard that song since I was a little boy.” Eskel said. “How do you know a hillfolk ballad?”

“Just heard it,” shrugged Jaskier. “I love to sing.”

“And your voice,” said Eskel. He rubbed his legs again, and seemed to gather his thoughts. “It’s like an angel.”

Well, Jaskier had been called a great many things, but an angel was not one of them. His heartbeat quickened. 

Eskel cleared his throat. “Are you, ok? You aren’t frightened?”

“Oh no, my darling man, I am not frightened,” he said. “At all.” He was still laying on his side, so noticeably fluttering his eyelashes was a challenge. But he did his best.

Eskel looked at him strangely and then smiled slowly.

True to her name, Lil Bleater bleated again, but it sounded much more urgent this time. She tensed again.

  
  
“Looks like it’s time.” said Eskel. “Are you in, Jaskier?”

“Time?” said Jaskier, over the bleating. “For what?”

Eskel grinned wide. “My girl is gonna have her kid.”

Jaskier suppressed a grimace. 

“You mean, right now? Oh gods. You’ve done this before I hope?”

“Many times.” said Eskel. “It’s her first time. Not mine.”

Jaskier huffed in relief. “Thank the gods. As long as I don’t have to do anything important.”

Eskel focused on him closely. “You do.”

“Oh fuck.”

“You have to keep her calm.”

“Oh. I can do that.”

The things Jaskier did for a wonderful piece of ass.

He stroked Lil Bleater, and started singing again. She calmed, then twitched, then calmed again. Eskel carefully focused on the other end of the goat.   
  


“Come on girl. I’m right here. You’ll be just fine.” He said quietly, stroking her haunches.

Jaskier leaned against the ground and sang to a goat as she labored. He listened to Eskel’s gentle encouragement. 

“You’re doing it. You’re ok. Here comes your babe.”

It went like that for a good while until he heard Eskel say, “There it comes!” pleased as could be.

Jaskier didn’t really have any desire to witness livestock birthing in detail so he just watched Eskel’s face. 

Jaskier was entranced by his eyes. He’d never seen such an enigmatic color, or such unique pupils. 

“Gotcha, little un,” said Eskel triumphantly.

Eskel pulled and pulled. Lil Bleater was staying remarkably calm. Jaskier let her brace against him as Eskel wiggled, pulled, and tugged. There was only the kid trying to be free, and Eskel trying to help him into the world. 

Jaskier sang song after song. He found it soothed him, as well as the goat.

“Ha!” cried Eskel. His shoulders flexed and he pulled the kid free. He stood carefully, with a slimy baby goat hanging down from where he grasped it by the legs. “You did it girl. You’re a mum!”

Jaskier crinkled his nose at the slimy slick mess. “Ew. Gross.”

“You hear that girl?” said Eskel, looking down at Lil Bleater studiously. “Jaskier here called your babe gross. Are you gonna take that?”

“Baaa,” said Lil Bleater.

Eskel chuckled deep and sonorous. “That’s right girl, you tell ‘im. Just cause he’s pretty doesn’t mean he can be rude to your babe.”

  
“Hey!” giggled Jaskier. He could feel himself blushing. 

“Bring the tunic over, will you?” said Eskel. “Wipe his nose and mouth.”

Jaskier sprang up and took the wet tunic over to the little goat. Up close he admitted, it was a cute little thing. He wiped its nose and mouth and it gave a tiny squeaky bleat. He giggled and wiped it clean as it wiggled.

It was even more precious when Eskel helped the kid nurse on its mother for a moment, then urged the gangly babe to stand for the first time.

As it clumsily took to its feet, after a few times tipping over, Eskel and Jaskier both burst into applause. They were crouched next to each other now. Jaskier was very aware of Eskel’s shoulder near his.

“She’s a mum,” crowed Eskel.

“And we’re kind of dads,” said Jaskier. He wanted to lean into Eskel. He was so close. So he nudged him gently with his shoulder.

He looked at Eskel, who smiled shyly at him. 

  
Fuck.

It was the sweetest smile.

“A hug to celebrate our fatherhood?” Asked Jaskier. 

Eskel’s eyes widened in surprise, then the smile returned. “I’m pretty disgusting.” He looked down at his sweaty torso and messy hands. “Once I clean off.”

“Well,” said Jaskier. “I am going to personally find you a bucket and water so I can hold you to that. And you can hold me. To. That.” He looked shamelessly at Eskel’s chest. Eskel averted his eyes back to the baby goat but he looked pleased as anything. “I know Elias has a pump around back,” said Jaskier, and he scrambled up.

Jaskier couldn’t move fast enough to the door of the stables, thinking about Eskel wrapping him in his arms. He almost ran into Elias at the door of the stall. 

Jaskier had known the stocky garrulous man since he was a child. He was normally happy to see him. But to be honest, he had been hoping to turn this alone time with Eskel into something a bit more amorous tonight, and he wasn’t in the market for a third wheel.

“Oh hello, Elias,” said Jaskier.

“Eskel,” Elias said, looking past Jaskier, and sounding out of breath. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Jaskier drew in his face like he’d eaten a lemon. That was a rude way to greet this darling man with thick lovely thighs that Jaskier was very much hoping would be crushing him later.

Eskel sprung to his feet.

“Oh. Hello Elias. The pass to Kaer Morhen has a landslide and I thought I’d just bring her--” 

“You have to leave,” said Elias, forcefully.

_Why was Elias being such a cock to Eskel_? Thought Jaskier. 

_Wait._

Kaer Morhen?

Had he heard that right?

He knew that place.

Kaer Morhen.

Everything Jaskier had forgotten about witchers and pogroms while crouching in the stalls with Eskel, came slamming back to him.

He knew where he’d heard of that place.

Fuck.

“You’re a witcher,” whispered Jaskier.

Eskel's gaze shot back to Jaskier. Jaskier was standing behind Elias who had stalked inside and closed the stall gate behind him.

"I'm sorry, Jaskier. I should have told you. I was worried and distracted and I--" 

He looked pained.

“No--” said Jaskier.

Elias cut in again urgently, “You can’t _be_ here, Eskel.”

“I’m going to get a room at the inn--” started the witcher.

“No,” shouted Elias, then took a steadying breath. He continued in a loud whisper and held his hands up defensively. “They won’t take you either. You don’t understand. Things have gotten worse. So much worse.”

“What do you mean?” asked Eskel.

  
“What do I mean?” Elias chuckled joylessly. “I mean no one will serve you. I mean, the mages and nobles are conspiring. And they mean to whip up the average townsfolk soon enough.” 

“Really?” Asked Eskel. “Are you sure?”

Elias turned to face Jaskier and waved a hand at him. “Lad. Why don’t you tell Eskel what Lord Gregorio has been having you scribe this past week?”

Jaskier's heart froze in his chest. His fingers twisted in his trousers. He swallowed and looked at Eskel.

With Eskel’s clear, kind eyes on him, Jaskier burned with shame at the words that had flowed from his quill this week. 

Jaskier felt like a villain. Like a liar. 

He had also defied his parents wishes by associating with witchers. Yet somehow that felt less important right now.

The words of _Monstrum_ stuck in this throat.

“Well?” said Elias. “Tell him.”

“He doesn’t have to say anything,” Eskel cut in. “Leave him alone. I’ll go. I can’t move Lil Bleater in her condition though. She could tear or hemorrhage. She has to rest.”

As if to punctuate his point, there was a loud deep bleat and a tiny shrill one.

Eskel dug in his pocket. 

“Here, take these. To take care of Lil Bleater until she recovers,” he said as he held out a fistful of coin. “I’ve been a good customer. To your father, and now to you.”

Elias’s face threw his hands up in frustration. “I. Can’t. Have. You. Here. Eskel, you’ve always been a good friend, but I have to protect my family.”

Eskel shook the coins at him. “I’ll send someone else back for her. I swear it. I won’t come back. Just please,” his voice cracked and Jaskier wanted to die.

He had written _Monstrum_ out probably a hundred and fifty times this week. The words were burned hateful and foul into his brain. They came back to him now.

_..a witcher is a creature contrary to nature..offspring of foul sorcery and devilry..._ **_must be wiped from the face of the earth._ **

There was a lump rising in his throat and a helpless panic rising with it. 

“Alright,” said Elias with groan. “Fine. But leave, Eskel. Now. It’s for your own good as much as mine.”

Eskel took Elias’s hand and pressed the coins into it.

“Thank you. Thank you Elias. I won’t forget it. I'm in your debt.”

Jaskier stood there, frozen in horror and mortification as Eskel pulled on a fresh tunic, bent to whisper something in Lil Bleater's ear, patted the new kid, and then slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Thank you Jaskier," Eskel said simply. And when he looked at Jaskier there was only gratitude. Jaskier stared, dumbfounded. All the acid he’d managed to wrangle away crawled back up his throat.

He watched Elias nod at Eskel in a pathetic attempt at belated kindness as he passed him and Jaskier thought his gut would melt from impotent grief. He trembled but stood rooted to the ground. 

Eskel left. Jaskier watched him go.

“Lad,” said Elias. He sounded sad. “Time to go home. I’ll look after Lil Bleater. Tell your father I’ll be round to look at Pegasus tomorrow.”

“Elias,” whispered Jaskier helplessly. “He’s a witcher? The one they called a demon? This can’t be.” He looked at the empty space at the open door.

“He is. You didn’t see his eyes?”

Jaskier gaped. “His eyes!? So his eyes are different and that’s enough to make people forget he’s a person! That’s enough to make him monstrous? Look at him! He’s a person!” He clenched his fists and his voice broke off.

Elias shook his head. “Of course he’s not a monster. It’s just a powerful men playing power games. Political bullshit.”

“And that's...alright? We just...go along with it?” Jaskier’s voice grew shrill.

Elias looked at him in confusion. “And what are we supposed to do about it?”

“I don’t know?!!! Help? Anything?”

Elias shook his head. “Eskel doesn’t need your help. Witchers are strong. Mutated for combat. They can take care of themselves. What could you do anyway? Go home and forget about it. You’ll kill your mother with worry.”

Jaskier’s mouth tried to work but nothing else came out. He took in a deep breath. His body finally uprooted. 

He pushed past Elias, only managing two words; “fuck that”. He burst out of the stables and back onto the cobblestone street.


	2. Igni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier comes up with a solution.
> 
> Eskel and Jaskier make some fire of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahoy. Check the tags, folks.

He ran until he saw the retreating form of Eskel in the fog of night.

The witcher heard him approach and whipped around. He didn’t seem nearly as upset as Jaskier felt. He looked calm. Placid even. Some hurt simmered under the surface. But even as they stood, it seemed to ripple away.

"You should go home Jaskier. You shouldn't be here,” Eskel said. He waved down the street, like he was shoo-ing a tomcat.

“No,” said Jaskier, heatedly.

He didn’t think about it. He just closed the rest of the distance between them and snatched one of Eskel’s hands. He felt a pleasurable vibration again. This man was magic. 

Eskel jumped in surprise, but didn’t pull his hand away. In fact, when it became clear that Jaskier had no intention of pulling back, it felt as though Eskel melted into Jaskier’s palm. He wiggled his fingers to envelope Jaskier’s entire hand in his. 

Eskel holding his hand felt so right, that his fear began to recede like a tide. Courage took its place.

“Come stay with me. I have a place nearby.”

“You need to leave.” Eskel said. But he squeezed Jaskier’s hand tighter, as though his body were at war with his mind. It told Jaskier everything he needed to know.

“Please. I have plenty of room,” begged Jaskier. 

Even one person could do that. Make one solitary witcher safe tonight. It was something.

“I’m fine.”

“Please. If I can make up for even the tiniest fraction of the harm I’ve done--” he pleaded.

“You haven’t done any harm, Jaskier. You helped me. You helped.”

“I haven’t.” said Jaskier. “I haven’t helped at all. But I want to. Where are you going to sleep? If the inn won’t take you?”

“I can sleep under the stars,” Eskel said. “It’s not a problem.” But he didn’t move away. 

“And what if you’re harassed?” said Jaskier. “Please.”

“You don’t even know me,” said Eskel. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because no one should be treated this way,” said Jaskier. He searched for words. “It’s inhuman.”

“Except it isn’t.” said Eskel. “This is pretty usual for humans.”

Jaskier burned again with shame. He had been a part of that horrible truth. He wouldn’t be tonight. Tonight would be different. Eskel would be safe tonight, he would make sure of it. Pleading hadn’t worked. He would try cajoling.

“You know what I mean,” said Jaskier. “Besides. You called me pretty and said I have the voice of an angel. No one with such impeccable taste and so keen an intellect should be treated so poorly.”

He nodded and smiled a confident smile that he hoped said “the matter has been decided.”

Eskel chuckled and shook his head. “You are...”

“Charming? Witty?” said Jaskier. “I know. It’s why you should come to my house. I have a bath. I have a full larder. You can eat. Rest. Be safe.”

Eskel rubbed the scarring on his face. “I can’t let you.”

“Well, then it's a good thing you are not qualified to tell me what to do,” said Jaskier. He squeezed Eskel’s hand and caught his gaze. “Please. For me. I’ll be miserable with worry all night.”

Eskel shook his head but the corner of his mouth twitched as if it wanted to smile. “I don’t know.”

“Come with me.” said Jaskier. And he lightly tugged Eskel’s hand just to test it. Eskel allowed himself to be pulled forward.

“Ah perfect,” said Jaskier. “Let’s go.” He tugged again and turned towards the street to his house. Eskel followed.

They walked along the cobblestone in the dark. The streets were quieter now. There was some noise coming from the houses as mothers tucked in their children and snuffed out torches.

“You’re still holding my hand,” said Eskel.

“That I am,” said Jaskier. “You are so observant. Is that a witcher power?”

Eskel snorted. “It’s covered in gross goat slime,” he said.

“Yes well, I forgot about that when I grabbed your hand but now I’ve committed to it so it’s too late now. We’ll just be gross together,” said Jaskier.

“Besides. Touching you is a wonderful experience I’d like to draw out.”

“If you say so,” said Eskel. And it sounded like he was smiling. “Thank you. You’re kind.”

The words stung because they weren’t true.

“I’m not kind,” said Jaskier. “I’m evil.”

“You aren’t evil.” Said Eskel. “Is this about what Elias said? You’re a scribe?”

“Yes,” said Jaskier. “There’s a pamphlet we’ve been writing.”

“What does it say?” Asked Eskel.

Jaskier’s heart dropped to his toes. But if he could write it, he should damn well have the guts to say it. Otherwise he’d just be a coward. He watched the street pass under his feet. He gave a rock a kick. He couldn’t look at Eskel. Jaskier let go of his hand and crossed his arms tight against his chest. 

“It’s says that...” he took a deep breath. “You are demons that delight in murder. Are an affront to the gods. And that you should be wiped from the earth.”

They walked in silence.

“You didn’t know, though.” Said Eskel. “Did you?”

“I didn't know what a witcher was,” said Jaskier. “But it felt wrong. And instead of listening to my conscience I went along. Like a slimy, warty little frog in a swamp just croaking along with all the other slimy, warty little frogs.”

“Frogs are very useful animals,” said Eskel. “They’re used in many important decoctions. So don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Jaskier grunted a begrudging laugh. “Why are you so nice to me? Is it because I’m hot? It’s because I’m hot isn’t it?” He kicked another pebble and watched it roll along the street.

“It’s only a little bit because you're hot,” said Eskel. He pushed his hands into his pockets as he walked. “It’s mostly because I’ve seen a lot of evil. And you aren’t evil. Even if you didn’t know I’m a witcher, I don’t look...friendly. And you helped me without hesitation.”

“You look friendly enough to me.”

“You didn’t even ask where the scars were from. I could be a ruffian. A pirate.”

“Are you offering to role play later?”

Eskel chuckled. “Don’t try to change the subject. You’re helping me. And that’s a risk for you.”

“Yeah well. It’s not enough. It’s not fucking enough,” said Jaskier.

“Wait,” said Eskel. He stopped in the street as though something had just occurred to him. “How did you know I’m a witcher? I didn't say.”

“Kaer Morhen,” said Jaskier, stopping in front of him. He stood close, because the street lamps were dim.

“The pamphlet mentions Kaer Morhen specifically?” asked Eskel. His brow knit in worry.

Jaskier ran through the words again in his head. He groaned. “Yes. It says Kaer Morhen should be burned to the ground.”

“Godsdamnit. And when do they plan to distribute these?”

“Fuck,” said Jaskier. “Fuck fuck and bloody hell. In the morning at the bardic festival.”

“Then I need to go home,” said Eskel. “Get a head start. Warn them.” He started to move back in the direction of the stables, towards the edge of town. Jaskier grasped him by arm.

“You can’t,” said Jaskier. “It’s too dark to ride. Your horse will stumble. You’ll never make it.”

Eskel rubbed his eyes with both of his palms. “Godsdamnit.”

Jaskier’s face lit up. “I have an idea.”

“You do?” asked Eskel, dropping his arms. He looked more miserable than he’d seemed all night. But there was a note of hope in his voice. It fueled Jaskier’s confidence.

“Yes!!” he said emphatically “Yes, I do.”

“What is it?” asked Eskel.

“I can’t tell you. But let’s get to my house first. I swear to you I will fix this. But I don’t want you out on the streets when I do.”

Eskel squinted at him doubtfully. “What....do you plan to do?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.” 

The rest of the way to his house, Eskel was distracted and silent. 

“This is me,” Jaskier said when they reached his house.

It was a two story wooden home with a modern roof. It was almost brand new. He was suddenly extremely grateful for it. It would have been a disaster to convince his parents to shelter Eskel. 

Fuck them anyway. He felt guilty for thinking it, but it’s how he felt.

“Let me set up a bath for you, then I’ll take care of this problem.”

Jaskier found the tub and dragged it to the room where Eskel would sleep.

Eskel stood behind him, shifting his weight and fidgeting.

“I can’t do this,” said Eskel. “I have to go. There has to be a way I can travel in the dark.”

“You know there isn’t,” said Jaskier. “Now, the buckets are just in the corner. The pump is outside. I’d do it for you, but I can see you aren’t going to be able to rest until I’ve done what I’ve promised.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Don’t worry your gorgeous head about it,” said Jaskier. “Now please, just take a bath. I’ll be right back.”

Eskel inhaled slowly and nodded.

“Alright.”

——

Jaskier slipped silently through the night streets. He’d swathed himself in black to blend in better. He knew the streets well, so he moved swiftly.

He could get into the scribes hall easily. He knew all of its secrets. He would just need to be fast.

When he arrived at the hall, he pushed open a door left unlatched. The creaking of its hinges was the only sound in the place. It echoed off of the walls.

Jaskier waited in the dark for his eyes to adjust. Then he found a lantern and he lit it. 

He slowly spun, holding out the lantern, taking stock of everything stacked against the wall. Hundreds of pamphlets. He picked one up. He had it memorized, but he just needed to see it one more time.

As he read the words, rage sparked deep in his soul.

He had been made to feel crazy. Sensitive. Like he barely belonged in this world. Simply because he didn’t want innocent people to be persecuted and killed.

Meeting Eskel had unlocked a truth buried deep in him, a truth he’d never known how to speak:

All of those things people told him, that killing was just a part of being human, that humans had to annihilate the other in order to survive, it was all bullshit. They’d made him feel crazy to cling to their comfort. And their comfort was the pyre on which other people were burned alive.

People like Eskel.

Fuck that. Not while he drew breath. It was time to grow the fuck up and make a choice. 

It was time to do some burning of his own. 

Jaskier dragged the rubbish bins into the center of the room and tossed in armfulls of copies of _Monstrum_ . Their pages fluttered down into the bins. He ran back and forth from the walls to the bins until every copy of the accursed thing was piled like a mountain.

Then Jaskier drew a deep breath. With purity of intention and with wicked joy, he ignited a torch and held it to the parchments. As the flames caught and licked towards the ceiling, a wild grin spread on his face. He walked in a circle around the makeshift pyre, holding the torch to the pile of pamphlets every step of the way.

He wanted to howl. He wanted to sing. But he didn’t actually want to be hung for his crimes. So he quietly held the torch to every pile of pamphlets titled _Monstrum_.

Then, when he was sure that every copy would catch flame, he quietly slipped out of the burning hall as quickly as he’d come. He walked calmly away from the flames. He walked home, sticking to the shadows. 

No one was at their windows. No one was on the streets. The lamps had been extinguished by the lamplighters. The moon was waning, so the only light coming from the sky was from the twinkling stars. The only sounds were from the crickets and whippoorwills on the wind.

He felt like a human for the first time in a long time. He felt at peace.

The door opened silently when he let himself in. But Eskel still heard him.

“Jaskier?” For the second time tonight, Eskel called to him. This time his chest fluttered. 

“It’s me,” said Jaskier.

He made his way to the guest room doorway. Eskel stood next to the bath. His hair was wet and slicked back. He was shirtless again, only now with a towel wrapped low on his hips.

Jaskier’s eyes raked over him hungrily. But then he remembered his manners.

“Ahhh,” said Jaskier. “I’m sorry.” He turned to leave.

“It’s alright,” said Eskel. “Come here.”

Jaskier hesitantly stepped into the room. Eskel beckoned him closer. The witcher sniffed the air and then tilted his head.

“Did you? Burn down? Your place of work?”

Jaskier grinned wide. “I sure did.”

“To protect me?” 

“Of course,” said Jaskier. “You deserve protection. I doubt I can wield a sword like you, but sometimes, all you need is a match.”

Eskel’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly serious,” said Jaskier. He leaned against the wall. He didn’t trust himself to stand too close to Eskel. He was amped up and seeing the man in this state of undress undid him with desire. Also, he needed the support. Starting at Eskel was making him a touch weak.

“You aren’t afraid of being caught?” asked Eskel.

Jaskier frowned and thought for a moment.

“No, I guess not.” He crosses his arms casually. 

“You’re a feral thing, aren’t you. At heart?” asked Eskel. He stepped closer.

“I suppose so,” said Jaskier. And he smiled again proudly. “Though to be fair, I’m learning who I am right along with you.”

“You don’t even seem rattled.” There was only candlelight in this room. The softness of the light made Eskel look more gorgeous still. He was close enough now for Jaskier to see his his scars gleam.

Jaskier wanted to run the tip of his tongue along every single one. But if not, that was ok too. Meeting Eskel had set him free. That was the greatest gift, and he had already received it.

But happily, Eskel was stepping closer still.

“I’m not.” Jaskier said. “Oddly. I’ve never felt more alive in my life,” he managed to answer, though his arms uncrossed and his words cracked at the end with Eskel stalking into his space now.

Eskel crowded him against the wall. He smelled like warm dampness and soap. Jaskier became even more aware of how low Eskel’s towel hung on his body. How his round ass seemed to barely hold the thing up. His fingers begged to just give it a tug.

Every pleasure center in Jaskier’s body lit up when Eskel took his face in both hands and pressed his lips to his. The witcher’s lips were just as plump and supple as they’d looked. Jaskier pressed into them eagerly as a sigh escaped his lips. The sigh became a whine when Eskel parted his lips with his tongue and tightened his grip on his jaw.

“So you like insane men,” said Jaskier breathlessly when they parted.

“I like you ,” said Eskel. He thumbed Jaskier’s jaw and looked into his eyes in awe. “I’m not exactly sure what you see in me. I could scent your lust from a mile away though. It was so thick. I couldn’t smell anything else. Even in the stinking stables.”

“I take it witchers have better scent abilities,” said Jaskier.

“Mmmm,” hummed Eskel. He pressed his body tighter against Jaskier, pinning him to the wall, his broad, nude torso thick and solid.

Jaskier buzzed pleasantly. 

He tentatively reached for Eskel’s back. Eskel closed his eyes and smiled when Jaskier’s fingers reverently brushed his shoulder blades. So Jaskier ran his hands more confidently along every plane his fingers could reach.

“You’re fucking gorgeous that’s what I saw in you. That and how adorably upset you were over a goat experiencing stress.”

Eskel chuckled and leaned his forehead against his. The witcher inhaled slowly. His eyes were still closed and he murmured.

“What do you want, sweet thing?” 

“You call an arsonist a sweet thing. You generous, darling man.”

Eskel smiled his charming crooked smile.

“You’re sweet to me . And you didn’t answer me. What do you want?”

Jaskier clutched him close and leaned up to whisper in Eskel’s ear.

“I’d like to kiss you until you forget every shitty thing that happened today. I want to lick you and wring every pleasure from you. I want to fuck you until you forget your own name and can only shout mine until your throat is raw.”

Eskel drew back to look at him. His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled as though he had just received the most excellent news.

“ _You_ want to fuck _me_?”

“Yes, gods yes. GODS yes.” The encouragement on Eskel’s face destroyed Jaskier’s eloquence. He babbled. “I mean your ass, fuck. It looks like a delicacy. So thick and juicy what I wouldn’t love to be IN it. Like allll the way IN it. A continental godsdamn treasure it is. It would be my honor to fuck it and you silly—.”

Eskel gripped his waist and pulled him tight. Jaskier felt his sizable erection pressing into him. He forgot what he was saying.

“I’d like that,” said Eskel. “I mean, we’ve already fathered a goat together.” He chuckled.

“Not much of a leap from there, is it?” asked Jaskier.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Eskel. “That’s the more serious commitment.”

“One question though,” said Jaskier. 

“Yes?”

“The intoxicating energy your hands give off. I feel some of that when I’m just pressed against you. Would I.....feel that when I fucked you?”

Eskel laughed. “I wouldn’t know. Usually people don’t ask to fuck me. And other witchers wouldn’t notice. You’re more than welcome to find out.”

“Thanks and praise be to the gods.” Said Jaskier. “I am truly blessed.”

He hovered his finger around the knot in Eskel’s towel. 

“May I?”

Eskel nodded and he tugged. The towel pooled on the floor, instantly revealing Eskel’s solid hips and his thick erect cock. Jaskier shamelessly ran his hands down Eskel’s chest and hips. He reached and squeezed the most generous handful he could of Eskel’s ass which drew a rumbling moan from his chest.

Eskel reached for Jaskier’s doublet. Jaskier shook his head.

“Not yet. Can you kneel on the bed for me?”

Jaskier flicked his eyes up to Eskel’s face. 

“Kneel?” he asked.

“It would be the joy of my life, such that it is, if I could really look at you.”

Eskel bit his lip and exhaled shakily. He pressed a chaste kiss to Jaskier’s lips as though gathering his nerve. Then he climbed into the bed and knelt, back straight and hands on his thighs. 

Jaskier walked around the bed, eyes gulping up the sight of the Witcher as he unbuttoned his own doublet and tossed it aside.

“Fuck you are stunning. The most difficult part is deciding what to taste first.”

Eskel’s hands rested on his own thighs and he watched Jaskier watch him with soft eyes.

Jaskier walked behind Eskel and fondled his ass with one hand as he unlaced his own trousers.

A husky sigh escaped Eskel’s lips and he arched his back, almost as if he were presenting.

“Holy sweet Melitele.” Murmured Jaskier. 

He stepped out of his trousers and underclothes, freeing his own hardening cock. He climbed onto the bed with Eskel.

“Do you like being on display for me? Showing me how pretty you are?” He whispered in his ear and caught his earlobe in his lips. He rubbed the goosebumps that raised on Eskel’s arm.

“Yes,” was just a breath escaping Eskel’s lips.

Lie down. Jaskier placed a hand on Eskel’s chest urging him down onto his back.

“So good,” said Jaskier. “So good for me.”

Eskel whimpered and chewed his lip.

“Yes, that’s right. You’re such a good boy.”

Jaskier straddled him. He rubbed his hands up Eskel’s chest, cupping his pecs in his hands.

“Do you like this?”

He leaned down and caught one of Eskel’s nipples in his mouth. His rhythmic sucking soothed his nerves. But it was having the opposite effect on Eskel who squirmed and rolled his hips forward, pressing his cock into Jaskier’s thigh. Jaskier dropped one hand to Eskel’s cock. He wrapped his fingers around it, feeling him harden to straining as he slurped and sucked Eskel’s nipple.

“Fuck. Hngggh,” Eskel quietly, melodiously keened.

He was so responsive. The power Jaskier felt at having this mountainous man hanging on his every touch was intoxicating.

“I want to play with your ass. Would you like that, gorgeous?”

Eskel eagerly nodded and quickly flipped over onto his stomach. 

Jaskier chuckled.

“Eager.” He hooked his hands under Eskel’s hips and yanked his not inconsiderable weight up easily.

“Shit,” breathed Eskel. 

“So you like to be thrown around a bit?” 

Eskel groaned and wiggled his ass.

Jaskier squeezed Eskel’s asscheeks, parting them.

“Such a big witcher. Suck a sweet little hole,” he murmured, relishing the view of Eskel’s thick ass and his back sloping out wide in front of him.

Jaskier reached through Eskel’s legs to grasp his cock. Eskel hissed as his fingers closed around his length. Jaskier gently tugged it so that it hung down between the witcher’s legs like ripe delicious fruit.

“Tell me, darling, if I do anything you don’t like.”

Eskel nodded.

Jaskier lay on his stomach so his tongue could reach. He licked in languid, reverent circles, working his way from Eskel’s cock, sucking his balls into his mouth, then nibbling up and licking a stripe between Eskel’s muscular cheeks. 

Eskel wiggled and squirmed.

Then, Jaskier stroked Eskel’s cock with one hand as he rolled the tip of his tongue around his hole, moaning into the heat and musk of him. He could feel his own cock growing heavy and hard from the taste and the feel of this succulent man.

Eskel’s moans grew wanton and desperate. 

“Please,” he whined. “Fuck me.”

“Mmmm, yes. Whatever you wish. Must get you ready for my cock though.”

He crawled up next to Eskel so he could watch his face as he worked him open. He wanted to please him. He wanted to make him lose his mind and cares with pleasure at the tip of his tongue and fingers.

He found some slick by the bedside. You could never accuse Jaskier of being unprepared to take a pretty, willing ass.

He massaged the slick onto the muscular planes and inviting cleft of Eskel’s ass. That was its own reward.

“Here, suck on these while I work you open. Bite if you want me to stop.”

He slipped two fingers into Eskel’s mouth, which sucked him in instantly, slurping urgently.

“Good, good.”

While Eskel sucked and whined, Jaskier reached with his other hand and pressed a finger into Eskel’s hole, rolling gently until he could feel his body accept him.

  
Eskel sucked and Jaskier explored, pressing and twisting and adding fingers and feeling how Eskel’s body responded, listening closely to the pitch and intensity of his moaning.

  
Soon he was thrusting with four fingers and Eskel had stopped sucking in favor of drooling and begging.

“Please. Please Jaskier. Your cock, please.”

Jaskier smiled wickedly.

“You want my cock, you stunning beauty? You shall have it.”

He knelt behind Eskel and grasped his ass with both hands massaging his cheeks and opening the Witcher up for him. 

He held his cock with one hand and held Eskel open with the other.

“Hnnngh please.”

“I will but you have to look back at me as I enter you. You must reward me with your honeyed eyes.”

Eskel twisted his body and craned to see Jaskier. As soon as Jaskier could see his face, he nudged in, popping the head through the ring of muscle. He almost doubled over in pleasure. The tight, smooth clutch of Eskel’s body also delivered a buzz he had never imagined possible. He was also rewarded with the loudest groan yet.

“Hnghhh,” he heard an unintelligible noise issue from his own mouth. “Fuck.” He gathered himself. He needed to retain control until Eskel’s body was ready for him to utterly lose it.

“Nod for me if you like that, Eskel.” He managed to ask, though his voice came out strangled and husky.

Eskel nodded wildly and dropped his head down onto the bed onto his forearms.

“Oh, come back, love.” Said Jaskier. Eskel turned his face again and Jaskier could see him smile. So he inched deeper, feeling the vize of enveloping pressure and the warm buzzing hum creep up his cock. He stopped when he felt Eskel clench around him. 

“More, more please,” begged Eskel.

“When you’re ready, darling.” Jaskier massaged his ass and waited anyway until Eskel melted around him. 

Then he thrust deeper, slow and gentle. He tried to keep his composure but he howled through his clenched jaw.

Eskel squirmed on his cock.

“More!” Eskel cried, more insistent yet. “Please. Jaskier. Fuck. I need more.”

Jaskier watched his cock disappear into Eskel’s greedy ass. The heat and the buzzing were either spreading to the rest of his body, or the strain of keeping his composure was making him literally vibrate. 

He clutched Eskel’s ass cheeks tight, trying to steady himself but hoped he wasn’t bruising him.

“More,” cried his eager witcher.

He bottomed out, balls slapping up against Eskel’s body. He melted down against Eskel’s back with a strained moan.

“Are you. Good?” He huffed, as soon as he caught his breath. He tangled his fingers in Eskel’s hair, still damp from the bath. 

“Yeah. Yes. Fuck.”

“Eskel.” He whispered, buried to the hilt.

“Hnngh yes?”

He tenderly kissed the nape of his neck.

“Fuck.”

Then he kissed the dip between Eskels shoulder blades.

“You are.”

He kissed nibbled a shoulder blade.

“So fucking gorgeous.”

Eskel groaned again and arched his back, rolling and pressing his ass tighter against Jaskier’s body, impaling himself deeper.

“Sweet Melitele” breathed Jaskier.

He straightened back up and grasped Eskel’s sides, pulling the big man up so his back was tight to Jaskier’s chest.

Eskel has been impressed he could manhandle him. He’d give him more reason to be impressed.

Jaskier greedily fondled Eskel’s soft, strong sides, then grabbed his hips tight and thrust.

“Hnf.” Eskel squeaked.

Slap.

“Hnf.”

Slap.

With each thrust, Eskel became more and more lax. His head rolled back to lean against Jaskier’s shoulder. His hands roamed Eskel’s chest, neck, and stomach.

Jaskier had adjusted enough to the vibrations of Eskel’s magic that he was managing not to cum yet, though it was difficult. He fended off his climax by breathing deeply and reminding himself that if he made this good for Eskel, he might be invited back. 

He reached for Eskel’s cock. Fuck it was thick. It pulsed with straining need and was leaking precum. Eskel closed his hand over Jaskier’s guiding him in pressure and pace, showing him what he liked, rewarding him with higher pitched moans.

Once Jaskier learned his rhythm, Eskel dropped his hand and let his head loll back. He huffed out reedy whines in faster succession. Then he went rigid and whined slow and drawn out as his seed spilled onto Jaskier’s fist.

“Jaskier, fuck. Jaskier,” he cried. Jaskier stroked him until he twitched from overstimulation. 

“Please. Don’t hold back. Fuck me. Harder.” Begged Eskel. 

“As you wish, darling.”

Jaskier pressed Eskel’s chest down, situating him again with his ass up and face on the pillow. 

At first he fucked in and out steadily.

He rubbed and stroked Eskel’s back and ass, transfixed by his slick hard cock spearing him, disappearing into him and sliding out. Losing himself in the tightness and buzzing magic.

Then he picked up speed, gripping Eskel’s hips and thrusting into him wild and animalistic, watching his ass bounce on cock and shake against him. 

When his vision began to blur and his rhythm grew erratic, he stilled.

He climbed onto Eskel, pressing him flat on his stomach and laying every part of his body on his. He tucked a tendril off Eskel’s hair behind his ear and leaned his mouth close, and he asked:

“Where do you want me to come, handsome?”

“Inside. In me.”

“Want me to fill you up?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

Eskel desperately clutched the sheets and Jaskier used the bed frame for leverage to fuck Eskel powerfully against the mattress. He thrust as deeply as he could into him, as entirely as he could immerse himself in the squeeze and the soft and the magic of Eskel’s body. He shouted as he shot warm and wet into him, his entire body, limb to limb seizing in shocked pleasure.

“Eskel. Eskel. Gods.”

He had never climaxed that powerfully. He had never had his entire body be so overwhelmed by release.

Sex was always good. But this. A magical man. Could he ever go back to a regular orgasm? Melitele forbid he be forced to do so.

He collapsed atop Eskel’s back and body, heaving and panting in harmony with Eskel’s heaving and panting.

He rolled into his side so he could pull Eskel onto his side and wrap his arms around him while still buried deep in him.

“Darling. You are perfect. You felt. Amazing.”

Eskel rubbed his forearms and leaned back. Jaskier slipped out of him, sated, and scooted so Eskel could fully roll onto his back. 

“You too, sweetness. Fuck.”

Jaskier got up and brought a damp towel. He cleaned them both up and crawled back into bed next to Eskel.

The mountainous witcher drew Jaskier into his arms.

“So I finally get my hug,” said Jaskier.

“Anytime,” said Eskel. Then the witcher took his face in his hands and pressed his lips to his.

They were full and soft and the kiss was fucked out and lax. He flicked languid licks against his tongue.

Then they squeezed each other tight as their breathing returned to normal and the warmth of the other calmed their beating hearts.

When Jaskier had returned to his wits and thought he could bear to hear the answer, he asked it.

“Are you headed back to Kaer Morhen in the morning?”

“Yes. I don’t want to leave you. But I have to,” Eskel said. “They need to know. Even though they don’t have the material to spread tomorrow, they won’t just stop.”

“I understand. I’ll get Lil Bleater and the kid for you before you go.”

“Thank you.” Eskel kissed the side of his face and he reflexively smiled and closed his eyes.

“And what’ll you do?” Asked the witcher.

“I’m going to sing at the bardic festival.”

“Are you? I’ll be sad to miss that. Have you sung at a festival before?”

“No. And I’ve just decided to do it this very moment.” Jaskier laughed. “I’ve always wanted to, but my parents discouraged me. I have a lot of courage at the moment though.”

“Good, good.” Said Eskel.

“And I know that burning those pamphlets isn’t enough. I have to fight the evil words with better ones. I have a few ideas for wildly positive songs about witchers.”

Eskel squeezed him tighter. “But you don’t know anything about us yet. As a people.”

“Ehhhh,” said Jaskier. “Songs aren’t about relating facts. They’re about provoking emotion. And you’ve done more than enough of that to inspire fifty songs.”

Eskel nodded. “I want to hear one some day.”

“You will.”

After a few moments of silence, Jaskier’s thoughts went back to the thing that had brought them together in the first place. 

What are you going to name the kid? You know, our son?” He giggled.

“Jaskier is a good name,” said Eskel.

“Nooooo,” said Jaskier. “I’m flattered but no.”

“Why not?” Asked Eskel, raising his head from the pillow and looking at him quizzically. “No offense but you don’t strike me as the kind of man who turns down the chance to be honored. Even with a goat's name.”

“No offense can be taken to the truth. No. But you may not name him Jaskier, because it’ll be too confusing. When I come to visit you and people call out both of our names, who will they be calling? Me? Or the goat?”

Eskel threw his head back and laughed. “You have a very good point.”

“So that’s a yes? I can visit you?”

“It’s a yes.”

“Yesssss.” Said Jaskier, clasping his fist in triumph. 

“But now you have to come up with a name for our son.” Eskel said.

“No, no. You do it.” Said Jaskier.

“Alright.” Eskel looked at the ceiling and thought for a moment. “I know. I’ll name him Igni. It’s our word for a sign we do that brings forth fire. Because both of his fathers bring forth fire.”

“Perfect,” said Jaskier, grinning free and wide. “Little Igni he is.”

That night, Jaskier fell asleep on Eskel’s chest. His fingers stroked Eskel’s stomach, until a relaxing sleep stilled them: 

Everything would change in the morning.

He would sing. He would stake his claim on the world as his own man. He would do anything to keep Eskel in his life for as long as he’d have him.

And he would do a good sight more than burn a bunch of pamphlets in order to keep him safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I have three long WIPs, but I promised a twitfic to celebrate a follower milestone. Two weeks later it turned into *waves* this.
> 
> It is vaguely tv Jaskier before he comes into himself. It is Eskel drawn from book and video game and interpreted with my own spin.
> 
> And it’s all set in an AU of my own making.
> 
> I’m a bookbinder and bookmaking history enthusiast so I just thought it would be fun to imagine Jaskier as a scribe and see what he’d do.
> 
> I’ve been editing this for so many hours over the course of two weeks so I hardly know what it says anymore, so Jaskel fans please let me know what you think in the comments. 
> 
> The Jaskel stan community is small but hardy and I look forward to seeing some familiar faces (names?) in the comments. ❤️
> 
> If you enjoyed, consider  
> [subscribing to me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descarada/profile) so you don't miss updates!
> 
> Also, if you'd like to find me on socials:
> 
> Twitter: [buffysummers10](https://twitter.com/BuffySummers10)
> 
> Tumblr: [fangirleaconmigo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fangirleaconmigo)  
> Feel free to send me an ask/dm to talk about the fic.


End file.
